


endless days as a weapon

by FeralFae



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralFae/pseuds/FeralFae
Summary: Ember and Achilles discuss nightmares and think about their own violent lives.





	endless days as a weapon

The catacombs were dark, only the flashlight between Achilles’ perpetually scraped knees gave any sign to life. Everyone was quiet, sleep such a rare thing for each of them. Somewhere further down the catacombs, someone was awake and keeping watch, ready to rouse a whole army, but for now there was silence. The day had been long. Now it was only Achilles at this side of the catacomb, awake among the sea of bruised children. Achilles wrapped her hair up in a bun on top of her hair, anxious and exhilarated at how long it was getting. The her of the past, the one inside her that, still controlled by them would have been so fearful of how imperfect it was, the clear sign she was not a soldier by choice. The her she had grown into though wanted hair down to her ankles. She wanted to be weighed down by something she could control for once. She wanted control for once. Next to her was a sleeping girl on her mat, the woman so angular and sharp and vulnerable. Still reeling from the vulnerability Ember had shown her, Achilles was almost giddy - as giddy as she got. Ember had offered a piece of herself in the most Ember way possible.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I have nightmares sometimes.” It took Achilles by surprise, but she didn’t embarrass Ember by telling her she knew. Ember did not sleep still, she screamed sometimes. She had even cried once. 

When Achilles finally found her voice after Ember had told her, she said “You and Jean can sleep here, if you want. We can put our mats together.”

This is how Achilles found Ember so close to her at night. Achilles wanted to touch Ember's sleeping face, to push the choppy bang stuck to to her forehead to the side but that probably wouldn't end well. Touching Ember was like touching a coyote. A rabid one. Once, she had pushed the chubby little fists of her two year old away, when she was scared. Ember felt so bad for doing that she had stopped letting her son share a mat with her, lying to everyone that he’d kicked her in the night or something. Everyone knew, but no one dared to set Ember off about it. Instead they just avoided stepping on her when she slept on the floor next to Jean’s mat.

Achilles understood. Ember was a creature who, above all else, survived. She crossed oceans and built bridges and set fires with only minimal guilt. Achilles loved the way Ember could burn as much as it scared her. The never ending fear of whether Ember's wrath would turn into another crime scene. Not on anyone in the Rebellion (Ember never hurt people whose lives were already fucked beyond repair) but the assholes who always showed up to hurt the broken child. Looking for her, almost always her. It was almost like the rest of them didn't exist, which would have been funny if it wasn't sad. Still, it was safer. Achilles knew the government who raised her probably assumed she was dead. It was annoying but necessary to be dead in their eyes. She never wanted to go back to being a soldier. The endless days as a weapon. Days that haunted her and kept her up on nights Ember snored too loudly. 

She had been stationed everywhere and nowhere. Everyone expected her to do what she was told for as long as she lived because she was programmed to do that. The army had dictated her every breath until she had the ability to free herself. Achilles pulled at the tiny bun on top of her head, trying to take the memories out. She couldn’t think about that if she wanted any sleep tonight. She only had so much to give. She was going to have to forget about that, she had to forget about shot after shot into a body, forget about the growing body count she had gotten so numb to she couldn’t remember if her own was one of them. If she didn’t let it go she’d never be able to live with herself without going insane. She never wanted to be comfortable with killing again. She knew she’d have to kill but she didn’t want to like it.

Ember's fists clenched and her spine seemed to fold in on herself. Achilles liked these moments, Ember as still as she got. Achilles watched the girl who stood so tall at 4’11” make herself smaller. She wondered if this was when the nightmares started, if Ember was arming herself like the armadillo she looked like. It was kind of cute. Maybe. Almost. Achilles liked seeing her so small and so gentle but she knew Ember would hate anyone being awake to see this side of her. The fearful mother, skin more bruise than skin, the age and youth all setting in at once and the constant look of anxiety. This was the girl who laughed like a snake and asked to have Pride and Prejudice read to her because it reminded her of her missing brother. This was the girl with matted hair who had almost broken Achilles hand when she gave birth. The one who had a baby and kissed Achilles and always left her feeling so confused and so warm, like piss inside her chest. 

Achilles would spend too long thinking about Ember and that was a different slippery slope than thinking about war. Ember didn’t make her want to forget. Ember just made her want things to be different. Achilles sometimes fantasized they lived in an apartment together. Nothing too fancy, an apartment with two bedrooms, so Jean could have his own and there’d be a mattress in the living room for lying on. They’d know how to read and how to cook and it’d be over. Everything would finally be over.

It was a fantasy, but god she wanted it.

Ember whimpered and her eyes shot open. Instantly she was no longer that soft, malleable sleeping thing, but instead she was sharp again. A fascinating thing, but different than the soft Ember. She searched the dark and her eyes falling on Achilles with a sigh. 

“I forgot you were there.” Her eyes darted away but Ember moved her knobby body over.

“I’m still here. Can’t sleep.”

“You’re sitting up. Not in the sleep position.” Ember patted the mat next to her and reached out for Achilles’ arm. “Lie down.”

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” Achilles insisted. Ember shook her head and pulled Achilles down.

“Please?” It was that soft Ember again. 

Achilles gave in with a smile and laid down on the mat. She reached an arm around Ember, looking for approval. “Is this okay?” Ember nodded, and melted into Achilles’ side.

Even if her fantasy would never happen, sometimes this was okay. Sometimes she could handle just Ember in her arms and a still night.


End file.
